Nixon (Raleigh Raptors 1)

I tilted my head, narrowing my gaze as I studied their body language. The effortless way they were around each other, the hint of longing in Roman’s—

Nope. Not going there. I cursed my psychoanalytic brain and my inability to not look beneath the surface level sometimes.

“I’m actually with Rick Baker,” Teagan said.

Tight end for the Raptors?

Rick The dick?

Or at least, that is what the press referred to him as because of his attitude on and off the field. Though, to be fair, as I slowly was being acclimated to this new life alongside Nixon, it couldn’t be easy living in the public light. Having everyone judge and comment on every single decision you ever made was pretty heavy.

“Oh,” I said, clearing my throat as I motioned between the two. “My bad. I just assumed—”

“Happens all the time,” Roman said, waving me off. “Bound to,” he continued. “With how long we’ve been friends.”

I nodded.

“Anyway,” Teagan said. “Let’s go check out your closet, shall we?” She tugged on my arm, ushering me toward the stairs, but paused and let me lead the way when I hadn’t turned into Nixon’s master bedroom like she’d assumed.

“I’m down this way,” I said, laughing at her silent apology for the blunder.

Teagan hurried to the closet once I opened the door to the room I’d claimed when I’d moved in. “This is all you have?” she asked, her eyes wide as she checked out the few outfits I had on hangers in the closet.

I shrugged. “I don’t need much,” I said. “My mom raised me on the road, so I’ve always only purchased what was necessary. Moving with a ton of stuff is a hindrance when you do it often.”

Teagan nodded. “Okay, well, tonight’s dress is absolutely necessary. And lucky for you—and me—Rick is out of town, so I’m free for the entire day.” Something sharp passed across her features, but it was gone in a blink. She hurried past me, heading back down the stairs toward the guys. “We’re going shopping!” she declared with such gusto and excitement I wondered how many times she actually got to go out and do it.

“We don’t have to,” I said, not wanting to bring her down but thinking about the amount of money I had in my savings. I had a little, but likely not enough to buy a dress worthy of the type of event she’d described. “Maybe I should just sit the party out. I feel like I’m already causing a problem with my lack of ball gown attire.”

Nixon shook his head and pushed off from the kitchen island. He reached into his back pocket, thumbing through his wallet before he handed me a thin piece of plastic. I glared up at him as he all but forced it into my hand. “Buy whatever you want,” he said.

I shook my head. “I don’t want your money.”

“You’ve made that incredibly clear.”

Roman choked back a laugh behind Nixon.

“Look,” Nixon said. “I asked you to come to this event. So, it’s only fair that I pay for the dress. Honestly, as long as you’re not buying houses, you couldn’t possibly spend what I make in one day.”

I popped my hip out, arching a brow at him and his confident grin. “That doesn’t impress me,” I teased.

The smile turned genuine, and he leaned down, lowering his voice. “I’d pay quite a bit to learn just what would impress you, Liberty.”

Chills raced across my skin at the way he whispered my name, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to be alone in this kitchen with him again. To have him press me against that kitchen island and feel that hard, warm body of his flush with mine. The blood in my veins raced hot as a hunger wrenched deep in my core.

Roman cleared his throat, and I jolted a little. I had moved closer to Nixon without even realizing.

God, I needed to get out of here before my hormones made me jump the quarterback in front of his friends.

“Shopping,” I said, taking a few steps away from him. I tilted my head at Teagan. “And lunch? I’m starving.”

Teagan clapped her hands, jumping a little on her toes. “Cool if you pick me up later?” She glanced at where Roman still sat.

“Of course,” he said. “All you have to do is call.”

Teagan clapped some more and then hurried to loop her arm through mine. “I can’t remember the last time I had a girls’ day.”

“It’s because you haven’t had one since high school,” Roman all but grumbled behind us as we headed toward the garage door. I fished for the keys to the car Nixon had loaned me and looked over my shoulder.

“Can’t wait to see what you pick out,” Nixon said, his smile wide and genuine.

And I can’t wait to see you in a suit.